


green lily, lily green: the gang smokes weed

by tillywitch



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, The Gang Smokes Weed, this is literally so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillywitch/pseuds/tillywitch
Summary: or: how to absolutely embarrass yourself in front of all your friends without really trying





	green lily, lily green: the gang smokes weed

When he arrived home, Gansey sat for a moment in the parking lot, head on the steering wheel. He tried to breathe. It had been a long day, the latest in a series of very long days. It was growing harder to make small talk, to care, to keep all balls in the air at once. Making conversation with anyone he hadn’t already lashed himself to grew progressively more and more tiring. His patience grew thin, time felt like it was running out, et cetera, et cetera. And there was no outlet. He had not built himself one—that was his quest from the get-go—and now that the quest had turned on him he had no recourse. He would die, he would die, he would die.

So Gansey selflessly devoted his energy to worrying. About Blue he worried, her feelings, her future, her feelings about him, her future with him, about Adam hating them both for such a sudden betrayal. He worried about never knowing Adam again, about darkness creeping up on him and losing him forever. Noah, he worried, would simply be gone one morning when he woke up. He thought Ronan would burn himself up and eat himself away, or would make himself so miserable it might be just as bad. He worried, he worried. Had he worried like this before? He probably always had. He had been an anxious child.

Only mildly distraught, stuck in his head, Gansey exited the vehicle and slammed the door of the car. It was a small rebellion that only hurt him in the end. Pulling his bag over his shoulder, he plodded up the stairs of Monmouth, feeling sorry for himself, when he heard Ronan’s particular loud, grating laugh. He had been worried by Ronan lately. He always worried about Ronan, but he seemed to be moving further and further away from Gansey. All the same, it was good to hear his terrible laugh. He paused at the door before opening it. “Lynch,” he said through the door, “Whatever it is you’re up to, I’m not in the mood."

Then, he opened the door and saw Blue Sargent on the floor, crosslegged, with a joint in her hand. Next to her reclined Ronan Lynch on his elbows, eyes half lidded. They both turned to look at him. He first thought, insanely, was that he was glad to see the two of them getting along. He second thought was abject horror. Drugs, in his home. He felt, suddenly, faint.

“Gansey!” she said, sounding cheerful. “Come, sit with us.” She patted the ground next to her.

Gansey flushed. “Is that marijuana?” how he strove for a casual tone.

Ronan was smirking. Blue looked concerned. “Oh no,” she said, “Gansey, have you never smoked before? I’m sorry,” she said, “ _ Ronan _ led me to believe that it would be fine.” She shot a glare Ronan’s way, who raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly. He held a hand out, and she passed him the joint.

Gansey scoffed, still feeling dizzy. Maybe it was the drugs. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He gestured magnanimously, slightly frenetically. "Of course I’ve smoked before,” he said. “I’m not,” he stopped. “Anyways.” he sat down and locked eyes with Ronan, who was grinning maniacally. His brain wouldn’t stop. They were smoking  _ inside _ . In the apartment. He had expected it of Ronan, but certainly… certainly not of Blue, who seemed more respectful. Practical. Like she had been raised better than this.

“Yeah, Sargent,” said Ronan. “ _ Of course _ Dick has smoked before. He’s  _ popular _ . He rowed  _ crew, _ Sargent.” He snorted, but Gansey was relieved. At least, it seemed, Ronan would reveal nothing to Blue.

“You do this… regularly?” Gansey said mostly to Blue, as Ronan passed him the joint. His heart pounded.

“Semi-regularly,” said Blue. “It’s not cheap.” She was laughing.

Ronan snorted. “Get over yourself, Sargent. Your evil fairy godmother gave me a better price once I started hanging around you, so it’s all good.” he paused. It was quite the speech for Ronan. "Whatever. Dick, if you’re not gonna hit that, pass it on to someone else.”

“I was!” Gansey was offended. He put the joint to his lips and inhaled. In the background, over his frantic heartbeat, he heard Blue saying, “Ronan Lynch, call Calla my evil godmother one more time, I dare you. You are such an asshole.” He tuned her out, inhaled, exhaled, and felt absolutely nothing. Both relieved and let down, he passed the joint on to Blue, who giggled at him. It was charming. Ronan smirked, which was considerably less charming.

He watched Ronan carefully for a minute. The way he held it in. It was very practiced. Like much of Ronan, Gansey thought, it was carefully cultivated to look cool.

 

Blue had put a hand on Gansey's arm and was touching his shirt, pinching the material between her fingers. She did not speak, but kept fondling his shirt. Gansey swallowed, hard. Ronan passed him the joint, skipping Blue entirely. Gansey tried again, inhaling deeper this time. He tried valiantly to feel something.

“Did you hear about the people in Pennsylvania who found all the dead animals in their walls?” he said, desperately. Perhaps it was kicking in.

Ronan’s ears perked up. “What the fuck?” he said. He sounded equal parts horrified and intrigued.

Blue looked up at him, brows furrowed. “Sorry?"

“It was Pennsylvania Dutch folk magic from the 30s and 40s,” said Gansey. “It’s called powwowing. Really, there ought to have been more done than simply throwing the bones away. But of course it’s their property.” He sighed, distracted by the folk culture.

“I’m sorry,” said Blue, “but what are you talking about?”

“He’s high, Sargent,” said Ronan, who was laying on the floor on his back. “He wants to talk about some magic bullshit.” He had lost interest quickly. Ronan did not care for Pennsylvania, or its rural inhabitants.

Gansey ignored them. “There are some interesting spells and incantations, actually.” He went to pull out his phone. Blue groaned.

“Gansey, I don’t want to talk about spells. I spend all day, every day talking about spells and folk magic. Let’s talk about literally anything else.”

“Sorry,” said Gansey, shamed. He sat quietly for a minute, irritated. He wanted to  _ talk _ . Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. What he wanted was for Blue to stop picking at his shirt and put her hands to better use, but Ronan was sitting less than two feet away.

“What time is it,” said Ronan, though he was the only one of the three to wear a watch. Gansey checked his phone. “Fiveish,” he said.

“Parrish is coming by in a bit,” said Ronan. He continued to stare at the ceiling.

“Adam,” said Blue, absently. “I’ll bike home when he gets here.”

“What?” said Gansey, suddenly struck with horror at the idea of Adam seeing him like this. “Adam is coming?” Did Adam know about this? What would he think, anyways? He was abruptly furious with Ronan for not mentioning anything earlier.

“Yes,” said Blue, laughing. “I hope he doesn’t want to smoke,” she said.

Ronan laughed at that. “Jesus,” he said.

“Adam does drugs?” Gansey spoke without thinking, and then cringed inwardly. “That is,” he stopped.

Ronan, to his credit, did not actually mock him. Likely it was because he was laughing too hard, but it was all the same. He was doubled over. “Drugs,” was all he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Ronan,” said Blue, “Be nice.” she turned to Gansey. “Adam smoked with us once, and it went poorly. No fun for anyone. He doesn’t like it much, either, so it doesn’t matter.”

Gansey must have still looked frozen in abject horror, because Blue leaned her head on his arm and sighed. “It’s ok,” she said. “He’s not gonna judge you.”

Ronan, having recovered from his bout of hysteria, snorted unhelpfully. “Just tell him what happened, Sargent."

Blue frowned and lifted her hairpin covered skull from Gansey's arm. “Adam lost it and got really angry the last time he smoked and it was really terrible and embarrassing for all of us. Don’t bring it up or he’ll get upset and probably leave.”

“Oh,” said Gansey, struck not so much by Adam’s apparent loss of control as he was by the fact that the three of them had apparently been hanging out, together, without him. Was he jealous? Probably not. He didn’t get jealous over his friends. Pure of heart was Richard Campbell Gansey III. It still stung a little. Blue was  _ over  _ Adam. He knew she was. They hadn’t even dated that long, anyways. Was Adam over her? He had no way to peer into the inner workings of Adam’s mind. They were too inscrutable.

Blue passed him--another joint? Another?--and he put it to his lips once more. His stomach roiled. Had Ronan rolled this? Had Blue? Gansey had seen a joint before, of course. At parties, in the corner of his eye. In movies. It was not unfamiliar. And yet, the paper, the burning. Ronan held a silver lighter in his hand. He was playing with it.

 

“The thing. The thing,” said Gansey, “About the Tripartite Indenture, is that it has its roots in mythology. The presence of the three men, the three nations--”

“No,” said Ronan, cutting him off rudely. “If you say one more word about the Tripartite Indenture, I will fucking kill you both and then myself.”

Gansey did not know how long it had been. His mind raced, his heart pounded. He couldn’t move. He wondered how much judgement Ronan and Blue were passing on him. He had been talking about the Tripartite Indenture for a while. How long? “The  _ French _ ,” said Gansey, miserably, and the buried his head in his hands. He had read so much. So many documents, so many years buried in the archives.

Blue patted him on the arm consolingly. “You’ve been talking about this for fifteen minutes,” she said. “Please hush.”

Gansey did not hush. He would not hush. “They  _ retreated _ , Jane. Why? Why would they? There’s no explanation. It must be something more.”

She nodded, still half clinging to his arm. Ronan lay, corpselike, an arm thrown over his face.

The door opened quite suddenly. Ronan sat bolt upright, like waking from a nightmare. Blue let go of his arm. It felt like losing a limb.

Adam walked in, looking tired, freakish, and handsome. “Oh my,” he said mildly, eyes on each of them. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He smirked briefly, which irritated Gansey, though he couldn’t say why.

“Shit,” said Blue, coming to her feet. “I’ve got to go. My mom will worry. Ronan,” she said, and nodded in his general direction. He nodded back, caught in the headlights of Adam’s gaze. “Adam,” she said, “We should chat later.” Adam met her eyes and nodded. “Gansey,” she said, finally, touching his hand. She towered over him where he crouched on the floor. He felt as though his stomach was molten. The moment her hand was in his felt like it stretched for an eternity. He felt Adam’s eyes on them, and he quickly let go.

At once, like a breeze, she left the room. The door clanged shut behind her.

“Parrish,” said Ronan, probably just to make noise, and then nothing.

“Hi,” said Adam, sitting down on floor next to Ronan’s splayed out body. He did not lounge, because Adam rarely lounged. He curled like petrified wood. “I see Gansey’s found a new way to pass the time.”

“He’s insufferable,” agreed Ronan. “He talked about stupid history shit for the exact same amount of time it took for the Blue Ridge Mountains to form.”

“I am a delight,” Gansey said, mildly offended. And then, turning to Ronan, “Thank you for not blowing my cover.”

Ronan grinned evilly. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

Adam raised his nonexistent eyebrows, but said nothing.

Ronan kicked Adam in the shin and sat up. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing,” said Adam. “This.”

“Ok,” said Ronan, and then paused. “Let’s get out of here.”

A strange expression passed over Adam’s face almost imperceptibly. Gansey thought he may have imagined it. He was intoxicated, after all. “Ok,” said Adam, sounding a little steelier than the occasion called for.

“Where to?” said Gansey, unable to sit silently anymore.

They both looked up at him quite suddenly from the staring contest they’d been having, badly hiding surprise. “Oh,” said Adam. “I’m not sure. I just remembered I have that Magical Realism paper due on Thursday.”

“I’m not doing this,” said Ronan, with venom. “Fuck this.” He stood and kicked the first thing he saw on the floor, which happened to be one of Gansey’s thankfully less precious and heavier books. It skidded across the floor, which seemed to enrage Ronan further, because he wrenched open the front door as hard as he could.

Chainsaw, who had been apparently hiding in Ronan’s room behind the half-ajar door, flapped across the main room. She perched on his shoulder, on the side of his jacket that was already clawed to bits. Like a dark cloud, Ronan Lynch stalked out.

Adam sighed lightly, and leaned back against the couch.

Gansey shook his head. “I will never understand what sets him off like that,” he said, trying not to sound concerned, or hurt, or like he was trying to police anything Ronan Lynch decided to do or not do.

Adam shrugged. “It’s a mystery,” he said. Then, “I’m so tired of this.”

“Of what?” Gansey peered at Adam.

“I don’t know, all of it. Maybe I’m just not sleeping enough,” he admitted. “You know, you and Blue can just…” he seemed to stop himself. “I guess we’re all not sleeping enough.”

“There’s a lot going on,” said Gansey. He hated this conversation. Hated that he couldn’t just talk to Adam, couldn’t just say what he wanted. Hated how much he had to strain to avoid a fight. He missed talking to Adam, but could never say it out loud.

“Don’t worry about Ronan,” said Adam. “I’ll talk to him. I think I,” he hesitated. “It's my fault.” Adam stood swiftly. “Sorry I showed up and brought the mood down. Y’all seemed like you were having fun.” He picked up his bag but fiddled with the strap on his shoulder like he had something to say. Yet he remained silent.

Gansey nodded, still jealous, still lonely, still with his heart stuck in his throat like a hard candy he’d accidentally swallowed. Adam’s deflection tactics were more annoying than usual, and they were usually fairly annoying to begin with. “The mood was already down,” Gansey said gloomily.

Adam paused. “If it’s alright,” he said, and looked around. “You mind if I work on my essay here?”

Gansey looked up. “Of course,” he said. It sounded a little overemotional. He coughed. “I mean, yes, certainly.”

Adam nodded and sat back down on the floor next to Gansey. For a moment, neither said anything. 

Adam spoke first. "Did you  _ really  _ talk about medieval Wales for that long?" He was smiling. It was fine. It was funny. This was fine.

"It wasn't that long," Gansey said, defending himself.

"I'm sure it was no longer than normal," said Adam, laughing. Gansey opened his mouth to disagree, but laughed instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is like midway through trk i guess? this fic is based entirely on my memories of smoking weed in high school and i make no claims as to its accuracy. i also don’t know what boarding school kids get up to but i do know that calla has a sweet side hustle selling shitty weed to the aglionby boys including ronan lynch, natch.
> 
> this (http://wnep.com/2015/02/10/horror-behind-the-walls/) is the animals in the walls event that my sweet folklore lovin pseudoarchaeologist son is referring to. the other event he refers to, the tripartite indenture, is a chapter of welsh history where gansey’s boy owain glyndwr once again fought for welsh independence! 
> 
> this is pretty much gen, but has implied bluesey and pynch so if teens sharing lingering glances and touching shirtsleeves offends you. which who knows, it might.


End file.
